Searching in the Dark
by Christine Eponine Watson
Summary: John has always claimed to be "not gay" and for a while, Sherlock didn't care. Then he started having feelings that he was unfamiliar with for his flat mate. Love is a confusing concept. It complicates friendships, breaks hearts, and gives joy more powerful than any other. Basically, love complicates everything, especially for Sherlock Holmes.
1. Introduction

This is not actually the first chapter, but it's really important and the real first chapter will come soonish. If the description intrigues you and you think you might want to read the story, please, please, **please** read this.

I originally started this fanfic with the title Defying the Laws of Fiction, but complications with my co-author arose and it required an entire rewriting of the story (even separating the plot I have in mind from the original concept), so here we are. I'm going to warn you right now that this story will cause major, for lack of a better word, feels. I'm really good at writing depressing, heartbreaking stories, but this one will have a happy ending, so hopefully you won't give up on me.

A few really important notes:

School ends for me on the 12th of June, so the first chapter will be posted shortly after that. Or sooner, since I started writing it today.I have the entire plot figured out, though occasional changes are made and parts outline I created for this story is actually a playlist on Spotify that is currently 184 songs long.

Now, to address the third note, I am not going to give each song its own chapter every time, though that will happen occasionally, depending on the song. I am going to open each chapter with a few lines from one or more of the songs that I feel best summarizes the chapter. I am not going to give the name of the song because I would like you, dear readers, to guess and leave comments with your guesses. Everyone who correctly guesses the song title will get a shout out in the note for the next chapter. I'm also going to create a companion piece for this fanfic that explains why I chose each song on the playlist and what it signifies in relation to the plot. You don't need to read it if you're not interested because it will be **long**.

I'm also posting it on Archive of Our Own. My pen name on there is Christine_Eponine_Watson.

I hope you enjoy my story and thank you so much for taking the time to read this.

~Christine Éponine Watson


	2. Something New

_It may seem to you that I'm acting confused _  
_When you're close to me _  
_If I tend to look dazed I've read it someplace _  
_I've got cause to be _  
_There's a name for it _  
_There's a phrase that fits _  
_But whatever the reason you do it for me_

_What's love got to do, got to do with it? _  
_What's love but a second hand emotion? _  
_What's love got to do, got to do with it? _  
_Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken?_

* * *

It started with a smile. Just a simple smile that John sent his way had Sherlock's heart fluttering. He didn't know why and, rather than admit his ignorance by asking someone, Sherlock filed the feeling away in his Mind Palace in the room labeled "John."

Next was a touch. A brief brush of hands during a case had Sherlock's cheeks heating up, though he managed to suppress the flush — he would _never_ admit to blushing, especially for no apparent reason — before John or anyone else saw. He filed away the entire experience away in his Mind Palace.

Then there was a laugh. John had been making tea and had dropped the tea pot, shattering it into a plethora of tiny pieces. John had, unsurprisingly, been cursing up a storm, but Sherlock had only laughed. Not chuckled, not scoffed; laughed. He was actually doubled over from the force of his laughter, earning him a scowl from John, which only made him laugh harder.

Then he said thank you. John had given him a cup of tea and he had said "thank you." Sherlock _NEVER_ said thank you. A "thank you" from Sherlock was even more rare than a laugh or a blush.

The thing that made Sherlock finally admit to himself that something was changing was a dream. The dream started like so many others he'd had in that he and John were running through the streets of London after a criminal. Sherlock had almost caught the culprit when he realized that he couldn't hear John's footsteps beside him. He turned, looking for his only friend, and noticed that he was suddenly standing in a meadow. With John. Sherlock didn't particularly care for meadows, they were just grass and flowers, nothing exceptional, but this one was. It was exceptional because John was standing in front of him, closer than he ever had before. _John, what are you...?_ And then he couldn't finish his question because John was kissing him. Sherlock stood frozen for a while before his body decided that it wanted to kiss back and wrap its arms around John's waist. The next thing he knew, they were back in their flat, in his bed, arms around each other, but nothing more intimate happened because Sherlock was a virgin and had deleted anything he had learned about "sex" in favor of more important things, like the many different types of ash. He was actually surprised to wake alone. Surprised and disappointed. That was when he realized he needed to figure out what the hell was happening to him.

First, he tried analyzing the dream and searching his Mind Palace for clues. That turned out to be a dead end. Then he tried the internet, but all of the results were impossible. The internet had never failed him before, but he couldn't possibly be in love with John. It was absolutely impossible for _Sherlock Holmes_, self-proclaimed sociopath, to be in love with anything other than his work.

Since the internet had failed him, he did something absolutely horrifying and humiliating: he asked Lestrade. The bastard had actually _laughed at him_ when he told him everything that had happened, especially the part about refusing to believe the internet. Graham or Gavin or whatever his name was had told Sherlock exactly what the internet had said. (Sherlock couldn't be bothered to remember his first name, especially after he found out that the man he had almost considered a friend was dating his brother, which was beyond disgusting. John had rolled his eyes when Sherlock had complained relentlessly about how he would be sick after what's-his-first-name Lestrade had told them. John was convinced they were a "sweet couple," but Sherlock disagreed vehemently. There was nothing sweet about his brother. Sherlock hadn't gone to a crime scene for a full week after he found out about them. After a week, the boredom was eating him alive and so he reluctantly left the flat, though he still refused to make eye contact with the traitor.)

Sherlock still refused to believe it, despite his logical mind telling him that it was very plausible. He just couldn't be in love. Not only was he a sociopath who had never been interested in anyone, (which wasn't entirely true, but he refused to admit that the debacle with Victor Trevor had ever happened,) John wasn't gay. Even if Sherlock had _Feelings_ for him, John would never return them, so there was no use in acknowledging these nonexistent _Feelings_. So Sherlock ignored them. Unsuccessfully. The little buggers just wouldn't give up until Sherlock admitted out loud (thankfully, John wasn't at the flat at the time) that he... cared... for John.

Now he had a new problem. Should he tell John? If so, how?

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**Sorry, this chapter was a little (well, a lot) shorter than I had hoped, but at least it's something, right?**

**Also, if you guess the song title correctly, you get a shout out! You can also have a shout out if you leave a review because it makes me happy.**


	3. Confusion

_"Then at last, a voice in the gloom _  
_Seemed to cry "I hear you; _  
_I hear your fears, _  
_Your torment and your tears." _  
_[He] saw my loneliness _  
_Shared in my emptiness _  
_No one would listen _  
_No one but [he] _  
_Heard as the outcast hears"_

_"Don't you think it's rather funny _  
_I should be in this position? _  
_I'm the one who's always been _  
_So calm, so cool, no lover's fool _  
_Running every show _  
_He scares me so."_

_"I'm running and not quite sure where to go _  
_And I don't know what I'm diving into"_

* * *

_Now he had a new problem. Should he tell John? If so, how?_

* * *

Sherlock was no idiot, obviously, but when it came to matters of the heart, he was at Anderson-level ignorance. Sherlock knew he couldn't just tell John. _That_ would be an interesting conversation. _"Good morning, Sherlock. Fancy a cuppa?" "John, I love you." _Yep, _that_ would work _perfectly_. John would just leap into his arms and teach him what would have happened in his dream had he any knowledge of it.

Since he obviously couldn't go for the direct approach, he had several options to choose from. One: he could pretend that nothing had changed. Two: he could go to a "friend" and ask for help. Three: he could try to subtly hint at his feelings, which would require loads of research. Four: he could delete everything related to his feelings for John so they could continue as friends, colleagues, and flat mates. The fourth option was the most logical, but for some reason, the idea of forgetting this annoying, impossible, irresistible feeling was unbearable, so that one was out. He had never been one for subtlety, he had just as much tact as a bulldozer demolishing a house without the owner's consent to make room for a bypass, so the third option was most definitely out. This left the first and second options. The last time he had asked a "friend" for help had been a disaster, so that option was out. Leaving only the first: pretend that nothing had changed. So that's what he did.

It worked for about a week.

That week was torture. John was just so _enticing_ and everything he did seemed to only make Sherlock want him more, even wearing those ridiculous jumpers, which was entirely new to the detective. It got harder and harder to conceal his feelings until he was certain that John would figure it out, but he never did. Apparently John was more oblivious than Sherlock had anticipated. The worst part was the stress of trying to hide how he felt. The tension became so intense that _anything_ would be better than waiting and not knowing.

So he went to Molly.

* * *

Molly hadn't been surprised when Sherlock showed up at the morgue without forewarning. He did that a lot. The surprising part was when he started _talking_ to her. He hardly ever talked to her. At first, she was really hopeful and excited that maybe, just maybe, she had a chance with him.

"I need your help, Molly," Sherlock admitted reluctantly. He hated _detested_ asking for help.

Molly's heart beat faster and she smiled at him shyly. "What do you need, Sherlock?" she asked. Maybe he was asking her out on a date...

Sherlock took a deep breath and let it out slowly before speaking. "I need... advice..." he said slowly. Molly's hope increased. "About John." Molly's face fell in obvious disappointment. She still wasn't completely without hope. "I... I think I... well... I... I love him." And there went all of Molly's hope. Sherlock would never love her.

"You... you're gay?" she asked, sounding much more disappointed than surprised. Sherlock had expected surprise.

"Not exactly," Sherlock said, his tone the one he used when making deductions. "I'm not attracted to men in general, only Joh- are you crying?" Sherlock's brows furrowed as Molly quickly dried her eyes.

"I... something just got in my eye..." Molly lied, sniffling. Sherlock could tell in an instant that she was lying, but he didn't really care, so he didn't press further.

"So, will you help me?" he asked demanded. It wasn't meant to come out as that impatient, but it did.

* * *

John had noticed that Sherlock had been acting strange lately, even for him. He seemed to stare at John more and was acting more interested in John's needs and feelings. If it was anyone _other_ than Sherlock Holmes, it wouldn't be concerning, but it was very uncharacteristic of him, which generally meant that something was very not good. When Sherlock returned from the morgue, he was back to his usual, inconsiderate, immature self, so John brushed the whole experience aside. Life continued on as it had for a few days.

Then the day came when everything changed.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**Next chapter is where it gets interesting. *evil grin* You poor dearies, you have no idea what's coming... *maniacal laughter***

**Thank you to AgeOfDarkness413, ParaGhost, and jael33 for reviewing and to jael33 for correctly guessing the song. The song, kind of obviously, was "What's Love Got To Do With It" by Tina Turner.  
**

**This chapter, you get selections from _three_ songs. In case you don't already know, you get a shout out if you guess the titles correctly, but you have to leave a review to get the shout out.**

**Please leave a review and thank you for reading!**


	4. Near Misses

**Author's Note: ****Well, this is a bit awkward. I was so impatient to get to my favorite part of the story (yay for tumultuous emotions!) that I didn't develop the story nearly as much as I should have beforehand, so you're all off the hook (for now). I changed the end of the previous chapter, so you might want to check it out. There will be lots more before we get to the things I have planned.**

**Also, if the chemistry in this chapter doesn't work, deal with it. I'm not going to change it so there's no point in pointing it out.**

* * *

_"...The way I feel inside._

_The love I have to hide..."_

_"I was made to believe I'd never love somebody else _  
_Made a plan, stay the man who can only love himself_  
_Lonely was the song I sang_  
_'Til the day you came_  
_Showing me another way_  
_And all that my love can bring"_

_"My gift is my song and this one's for you_  
_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._  
_I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind_  
_That I put down in words_  
_How wonderful life is now you're in the world"_

* * *

Life continued on as it had, though beneath the surface, everything had changed.

* * *

John hated it when people assumed that he and Sherlock were a couple. It ruined his chances with women. That was why he hated it. Also, he was not gay, though Mrs. Hudson was convinced otherwise. That didn't mean he was entirely straight. There had been this one time at university when he'd given his dorm mate a blowjob, but that was just experimenting that everyone does at uni. He didn't want a relationship with a man. If he'd started using his vibrator more often since moving in with Sherlock, that was entirely coincidental. He was just relieved Sherlock hadn't found it. The tosser would probably wind up telling everyone at a crime scene like the time he had mentioned the types of sex positions he'd deduced John most enjoyed because it was "relevant to the case."

John had refused to speak to Sherlock for two whole days after that incident, which Sherlock hadn't liked at all. Seriously, the man was like a cat sometimes. Whenever people gave him attention, he was dismissive of them, but when he was ignored, he demanded attention and went to great lengths to get it.

Sherlock was both an incredible nuisance and the best friend John had ever had, though he would never tell Sherlock that. The man didn't need his ego inflated. John didn't quite know why he valued Sherlock so much. Actually, he did know, just not consciously. He his his feelings for Sherlock from everyone, especially himself.

* * *

The first time Sherlock nearly accidentally let John know was at a crime scene.

It was a Saturday and there was a double homicide. Sherlock had been thrilled, but when they arrived at the scene, he was having difficulty focusing. It was all John's fault. John had bent over to examine the bodies and Sherlock couldn't stop himself from staring at John's arse. He'd never found arses attractive before, but John's was. Lestrade had done a very poor job of hiding his laughter. Sherlock managed to tear his eyes away from John to glare at him, but that only made Lestrade laugh a bit harder.

"Shut up," Sherlock mumbled, irritated beyond belief with the traitor. John turned and looked up at them and Lestrade laughed some more at Sherlock's pout, knowing it was because John's arse was no longer visible.

"What's so funny?" John asked, looking between the two men.

"Oh, just Sherlock being, well, Sherlock," Lestrade said, smirking. He winked at Sherlock when the detective shot him another glare.

John looked even more confused. "Seriously, what did I miss?" he asked. This was weird, even where Sherlock was concerned.

Sherlock's glare clearly conveyed a message to its target: _'tell him anything and I'll kill you.'_

Lestrade decided that it wasn't worth the risk. "It's nothing, John," he said dismissively.

John didn't believe it for a moment, but he decided not to press further.

* * *

The second time was in their flat.

Sherlock was experimenting at the table, trying _not _to think about the fact that John was naked in the shower with water running down his body and... Damn. He focused even more on his experiment. He had to add _exactly_ one drop of sulfuric acid to the solution and it would be complete...

Just then, the bathroom door opened and John walked out, clad only in his towel. Sherlock froze, staring at John who, thankfully, didn't notice. The white, fluffy towel John had wrapped around his waist slipped slightly, but he caught it. He looked up at Sherlock, but just as the detective opened his mouth to make an excuse, a second drop of sulfuric acid fell into his beaker, causing a minor explosion. Sherlock instantly changed his stare to a glare.

"This is all your fault," he whined at John as he discarded the failed experiment.

John sighed in exasperation and shook his head. "_My_ fault," he protested. "How is this _my _fault?"

Sherlock continued to glare at him. "You distracted me from my experiment," he insisted.

John put his face in his hand. "You are absolutely bloody ridiculous, Sherlock Holmes," he sighed, heading up the stairs to put on clothes.

* * *

The third time was the closest yet.

Sherlock had been unable to sleep one night because a song kept playing in his Mind Palace. It originated in the "John" room. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep that night — it wasn't like he normally slept, but still — until he played it and heard it outside of his head. He wrapped himself up in his dressing gown and slipped out of his room, padding over to his violin. He very gingerly took the beautiful instrument out of its case, gently caressing it the way one would a lover before raising it and starting to play. It was raining outside — not a heavy rain, but a steady drizzle — and he watched the drops silently fall to the street and drip down the window pane as his music poured forth softly.

It began as a sad, slow melody, echoing the unspoken loneliness he'd felt all his life, before meeting John, that is. Gradually, it shifted to something not quite happy or joyful, but content and, most of all, full of hope. It metamorphosed once more, adding chords that hadn't been there before, adding a deep love to the melody. This song was everything he felt for John: fear, hope, love.

As the last notes faded into the quiet sounds of London at night with the soft pitter-patter of rain against pavement, Sherlock turned to put his violin back in its case and saw that John had left his room and was watching him, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"That was beautiful," John murmured, blinking away the almost-tears. "Did you write it? I've never heard it before." Sherlock nodded. "Does it have a title?"

_Yes,_ Sherlock wanted to answer. _It's called "John". _"Not yet," he replied instead.

"I think it was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," John said, a small smile on his lips.

Sherlock flushed — _still not a blush_ — slightly and smiled shyly. "I wrote it for you," he said quietly. "Do you like it?"

John's smile widened. "I _love _it, Sherlock," he said, walking over to Sherlock and hugging him. "Thank you," he whispered.

Sherlock had not been hugged very often in his life, so he hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around John and hugging back. He rested his head on John's gently and took a deep breath. John smelled nice, like the cologne he used but there was something else there too, something uniquely _John_. "You're welcome," he replied. They stayed like that for a while, neither knew how long, just hugging. Sherlock was not one for displays of emotion like this, public or otherwise, but this was perfect.

John eventually pulled back slightly and they locked eyes. Sherlock's breath caught as John's eyes flickered down to his lips. As John leaned closer, Sherlock's heart pounded. John stopped moving when their lips were mere centimeters apart, as though asking for Sherlock to close the gap himself. Sherlock's mind whirred and the pounding of his heart drowned out the sound of the rain. He'd never kissed anyone before, what if he did something wrong and John left because of it? Was it worth the risk to their friendship? By the time he decided that yes, it was worth it, John was pulling away and extracting himself from the embrace. Sherlock's arms fell to his sides limply and he blinked at John, for once in his life at a loss for words.

John was blushing, his cheeks a rosy pink. "Goodnight, Sherlock," he said, hurrying back to his room and leaving Sherlock to wonder if he had just missed his only chance.

* * *

**Author's Note: Big thanks to zeldakitty, Cantuono, Serenityofthematrix, and 1butterfly_grl1 for commenting/reviewing. Biggest thanks to karuna for one of the best reviews I've ever gotten, certainly the most entertaining, and for correctly guessing all three songs! Also to Drivialida for literally the sweetest review I've ever gotten. (The end of this chapter was for you.)**

**I hope that you know the drill with the songs because I don't want to write it again. (See the previous chapters if not.)**


	5. Reflections

_"I've been meaning to tell you_  
_I've got this feelin' that won't subside_  
_I look at you and I fantasize_  
_You're mine tonight"_

_"Yes, you want her_  
_Look at her, you know you do_  
_Possible she wants you too_  
_There is one way to ask her_  
_It don't take a word_  
_Not a single word_  
_Go on and kiss the girl"_

* * *

John was blushing, his cheeks a rosy pink. "Goodnight, Sherlock," he said, hurrying back to his room and leaving Sherlock to wonder if he had just missed his only chance.

* * *

John lay awake for a while, berating himself for what he'd almost done. He was not bloody gay! He shouldn't be going around in the dead of night, nearly kissing his _male_ flat mate! But bloody hell, was Sherlock difficult to resist... from a strictly heterosexual standpoint, of course...

John decided that he needed to go on another date to get his mind off of the things he _absolutely did not _feel for his flat mate.

If the women he dated happened to be tall with dark, curly hair and icy eyes, well, it was entirely a coincidence.

* * *

Sherlock spent the entire night awake in his bed, thinking about what had almost happened between him and John. John was going to kiss him. Why hadn't John kissed him?! Why was his stupid flat mate so determined to be "not gay"?! It's not like being gay was a disease or anything. There was no reason at all for John to fight his obvious feelings. Basically, Sherlock sulked in his bed all bloody night long. That was when he came up with an idea. He would try to make John admit his feelings or kiss him. Preferably both. Again, he would go to Molly, _not_ the traitor, Lestrade. He needed advice on how to woo John. That decided, he was able to fall asleep, a grin on his face. John would be his, whether he wanted to be or not. Hell, he already was Sherlock's, he just didn't know it yet. No one would take John from him.

* * *

In the morning, Sherlock hurried out of the flat to the morgue the moment he knew Molly would be there. She jumped slightly when the door slammed open, dropping some of the thankfully not as breakable equipment on the ground in surprise.

"Oh... Sherlock... It's you..." Molly said, slightly disappointed that it wasn't Jim from IT.

"Molly, I need your... help... again... with John..." Sherlock said slowly, hating that he had to resort to asking for help from others instead of using his wonderful brain.

Molly nodded. She wasn't quite so disappointed now that she had a boyfriend of her own. "Of course, Sherlock," she said. "What do you need?"

Sherlock shifted his weight almost imperceptibly. "How do I get John to admit that he isn't entirely 'not gay?'" Sherlock demanded, still not very good at properly asking for help without being at least somewhat insulting.

Molly bit her lip, thinking. "Maybe you should just tell him how you feel..." she suggested. "Or show him, perhaps through a kiss..."

Sherlock groaned. "That would be completely idiotic!" he exclaimed. "I need him to admit it first!"

"Well, Sherlock, you can't force someone to love you," Molly told him gently. That was a lesson she'd learned the hard way.

"I never said I wanted to _force_ him to love me," Sherlock argued. "I know that he has feelings for me, I just want to manipulate him into admitting it."

Molly sighed. This was something Sherlock would never understand. "If you're not going to take my advice, maybe you shouldn't ask for it," Molly said in an attempt to be firm, but she was far too mousy and sweet to pull it off.

"Fine," Sherlock huffed. "I'll just have to figure it out by myself, then." He left without so much as a goodbye.

* * *

Sherlock walked through the streets of London slowly, ignoring the slow and steady fall of rain. As he walked, he thought over what Molly had said to him. Maybe he should tell John... But what if John rejected him? He couldn't lose his only friend.

Molly's words ran through his head almost like a mantra: _"Or show him, perhaps through a kiss..." _That was it, he decided. He'd kiss John like he'd wanted to last night. He had to time it right, though. It had to be perfect.

One kiss, and hopefully John would realize that he only really wanted Sherlock.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry it's such a short chapter. I got a great review from kittysayzmeow that made me want to update, but this is all I have the attention span to write for today.**

**Thank you to kittysayzmeow, reflectiveless, booklover22, Drivialida, iamthedaisyqueen, EJBRUSH1952, Cantuono, ill-interrogate-the-cat, Serenityofthematrix, jaimi-or-jaemi, Sigyn Holmes Laufeyson, and ParaGhost for reviewing!**

**The songs from the previous chapter, in order, are "As Long As He Needs Me" from ****_Oliver!_****, "Half of My Heart", and "Your Song". **

**Sigyn Holmes Laufeyson and Cantuono correctly guessed "Your song" and Sigyn Holmes Laufeyson actually mentioned the version of the song that I have on my playlist, which is by Ewan McGregor in ****_Moulin Rouge._**

**Thanks everyone for supporting my story!**


	6. The Calm Before the Storm

_"Oh, how could I face the faceless days_  
_If I should lose you now?"_

_"I'm running out of ways to make you see_  
_I want you to stay here beside me_  
_I won't be okay and I won't pretend I am_  
_So just tell me today and take my hand"_

_"I've never opened up to anyone_  
_So hard to hold back when I'm holding you in my arms_  
_We don't need to rush this, let's just take it slow_  
_Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight_  
_Just a touch of the fire burning so bright_  
_And I don't want to mess this thing up_  
_No, I don't want to push too far_  
_Just a shot in the dark that you just might_  
_Be the one I've been waiting for my whole life  
So baby, I'm alright with just a kiss goodnight"_

* * *

One kiss, and hopefully John would realize that he only really wanted Sherlock.

* * *

Sherlock's plans to kiss John blew up in his face. Literally.

Well, not his plans, exactly. He was bored out of his wits and shot the wall a few times. John shouted at him about the wall, the head in the fridge, the solar system... They had a row and John walked out.

Then the windows blew in.

Luckily, they got a fascinating case out of it. Even better, John ran home, worried about him. It would have been the perfect opportunity to kiss his flat mate, had his stupid bloody _brother_ not shown up with a case of his own and a gold band on his ring finger that not even John missed.

Mycroft was in the middle of trying to persuade Sherlock to take his case when John interrupted him.

"Oh my God, Greg actually proposed!" John exclaimed, earning one of the very, _very_ rare genuine smiles that very few knew Mycroft could give and only Lestrade normally got to see.

Sherlock groaned. Why the hell would anyone _want_ to be chained to his brother for life?!

* * *

Days later, Sherlock walked into the pool to meet his newest and most interesting adversary. When he saw John and thought that the only human being he could ever love was a serial killer, his heart shattered into pieces. When John opened his jacket to reveal the bomb, he was equal parts relieved and terrified. He was relieved that John was not the killer he was chasing, but terrified that he would lose John, his own life didn't matter. He'd never been this afraid in his entire life, but the thought of losing John was worse than the possibility of losing his own life.

When Moriarty got a call and left, Sherlock and John had just stood there in shock for a while. When it finally sunk in that they were safe, both men burst into relieved laughter.

"Let's go to a pub," John said when his laughter became controllable. "I could use a good drink."

Sherlock was going to decline, but thought better of it. "Alright," he agreed. After all, people tended to lose their inhibitions when they drank. This might be the chance he was waiting for.

* * *

Two hours and many, many, many drinks later, — Sherlock lost track at their third glasses, — Sherlock was extremely pissed. The most he could deduce about his surroundings was that the chairs were hard and uncomfy and the barkeep was blond like his Jawn.

John, though much more experienced at drinking than Sherlock and therefore having a better tolerance for alcohol, was also extremely drunk and not so subtly staring at Sherlock. Throughout the night, they'd migrated closer and closer together until their sides were pressed together. He didn't know which of them finally suggested going home, but the next thing he knew, they were in a cab headed back to Baker Street and his head was rested on John's lap. Apparently, his stomach did not like the combination of alcohol and motion, but John's soothing fingers massaging his scalp made it feel better.

It took forever — really only a few minutes — for John to get out his wallet to pay the cabby and by the time the disgruntled driver was on his way, Sherlock was sitting on the doorstep and practically clawing at the door, willing it to open. He looked like a cat that had been locked out in the rain. John laughed out loud.

Sherlock turned and towards John, glaring at him. "Don' laugh a' me..." he whined with a pout.

John laughed even louder and staggered over to the door, eventually managing to get the key in the keyhole. When he door was opened, Sherlock, who had been leaning against the door, fell in slightly, flailing. John helped him to his feet and they half carried each other up the stairs. About a zillion steps later, they collapsed on the sofa next to each other. Their eyes met and they burst into laughter.

"Well, this's been an a'venture," John slurred, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

Sherlock grinned at him, but his eyes were quickly drawn to John's lips, sobering him slightly. This was the perfect opportunity to kiss John, to show the only human he'd ever loved just how much he cared. They were already almost close enough for their noses to touch. It would only take the slightest amount of effort to press their lips together. John noticed the direction of his gaze and licked his lips, his own eyes drawn to Sherlock's plush, pink lips.

"Sher-" he began, but he was cut off as those beautiful lips were pressed to his.

Sherlock had never kissed anyone before in his life — not on the lips, anyway, but that hardly counted as he didn't remember it — but as he pulled John into his arms and John got over his initial surprise and kissed back, he was glad he hadn't; no other kiss could possibly be this perfect.

* * *

**Author's Note: Oh dayum. If you haven't read the title, this is the calm before the storm. I'm going to warn you all now that from here on in for a long, long time, it's going to be depressing. I hope you'll still read and review because I love you all dearly, but as I said, I have this entire story planned out and I swear it will be worth it in the end. **

**Thank you to reflectiveless ***cough* mine *cough***, Tanja88, spitfirelady, Serenityofthematrix, judybear236, ButterscotchCandybatch, TheReturned, . , Cantuono, BenedictScumberbatch, jaimi-or-jaemi, and kittysayzmeow for reviewing!**

**Special thanks to spitfirelady, ButterscotchCandybatch, TheReturned, BenedictScumberbatch, and jaimi-or-jaemi for correctly guessing at least one of the songs.**

**The songs from the last chapter were "Hungry Eyes" from ****_Dirty Dancing_**** and "Kiss the Girl" from ****_The Little Mermaid._**


	7. Almost Perfect

**WARNING: A small amount of sexual content.**

* * *

_"Let's take it slow I don't want to move too fast_  
_I don't wanna just make love, I wanna make love last_  
_When you're up this high, it's a sad goodbye_  
_Don't you wanna stay here a little while_  
_Don't you wanna hold each other tight_  
_Don't you wanna fall asleep with me tonight_  
_Don't you wanna stay here a little while_  
_We can make forever feel this way  
__Don't you wanna stay?"_

_"Please don't make me love you_  
_Please don't make me need you_  
_I've no room in my life_  
_For something like this_  
_..._  
_I grow weak when we talk_  
_I'm confused when we touch_  
_I should just walk away_  
_But that's asking too much"_

_"Guess it's true, I'm not good at a one-night stand_  
_But I still need love 'cause I'm just a man_  
_These nights never seem to go to plan_  
_I don't want you to leave, will you hold my hand?_  
_Oh, won't you stay with me?_  
_'Cause you're all I need"_

_"No chance, no way_  
_I won't say it, no, no_  
_..._  
_It's too cliche_  
_I won't say I'm in love_  
_I thought my heart had learned its lesson_  
_It feels so good when you start out_  
_My head is screaming get a grip, [boy]_  
_Unless you're dying to cry your heart out"_

* * *

Sherlock had never kissed anyone before in his life — not on the lips, anyway, but that hardly counted as he didn't remember it — but as he pulled John into his arms and John got over his initial surprise and kissed back, he was glad he hadn't; no other kiss could possibly be this perfect.

* * *

Sherlock's head was constantly filled with a cacophony of thoughts: deductions, calculations... the list went on. He never got a break from the _noises_ plaguing his brilliant mind. There was never a single quiet moment. It was even worse without a case to focus on. But, here with John sitting in his lap, grinding against him with their lips never parting for more than a second, the deafening chaos in his brain quieted to a gentle, soothing hum. The only word that was distinguishable in his mind was _John._

At some point during the frenzy of kisses, John had started to unbutton Sherlock's shirt and growled in frustration when his alcohol-slowed hands wouldn't remove the damned thing quickly enough. Sherlock's hands traveled down John's back to his arse, not bothering to help in the least as he pulled the other man even closer to himself, grinding their equally aroused cocks together even harder and more desperately. He grinned when the action elicited the most beautiful moan from John.

"Bloody 'ell, 'Lock," John gasped, tilting his head back in bliss and exposing his delicious neck. Sherlock couldn't resist leaning forward to suck some marks into the lovely skin, claiming John as his. John seemed to remember his mission and fumbled with Sherlock's buttons some more. When he finally got the last button free and exposed Sherlock's chest, his head bent down to kiss it as his hands moved lower, having a lot less difficulty with the detective's trousers.

"Ahhh... John..." Sherlock moaned as John slipped off his trousers and reached into his pants to stroke him. John grinned, kissing Sherlock's neck and biting down on it gently. Sherlock gasped at the sensation. John's thumb flicked over the head of Sherlock's cock and before he could stop himself, Sherlock had blurted out, "I love you."

John instantly froze and Sherlock knew something was wrong. His suspicions were confirmed when John's hand removed itself from his trousers. Sherlock was starting to panic. John couldn't just leave... not now, not after how long he'd waited, how long he'd wanted him.

"John... wait..." he begged, wishing he didn't sound so pathetic.

* * *

John stood up, taking a few steps back, away from Sherlock. His heart was pounding. Sherlock had told him that he loved him... Half of him wanted to kiss Sherlock and say that he loved him too, but that was just the alcohol talking... He couldn't love Sherlock... John was _not_ gay! He took a few more steps back, not meeting Sherlock's eyes so he wouldn't have to see the anguish and heartbreak that the normally reserved man was revealing.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock... I can't... I have to go..." John said, taking a few more steps back.

Sherlock stood, taking a step towards John. "Just forget I said anything," he pleaded, desperation in his voice and face. "We can go back to where we were... Just... stay..."

John met Sherlock's eyes, the panic in his own rivaling even Sherlock's. "I... I can't... I'm not gay..." he stammered and fled to his room, closing the door behind himself and sinking to the floor with his back against it.

His mind wanted to scream at him for leaving like that, but he was too terrified of his own feelings to do anything but sit there, wishing he could turn back time so tonight would never have happened. He didn't want to hurt Sherlock, but he couldn't let himself get hurt again. He'd had his heart broken before and he couldn't let that happen again. He couldn't let himself love Sherlock.

* * *

"Wait..."

Sherlock stood in silent agony for a few minutes, hoping against all likelihood that John would come back and it could go back to what it had been before he ruined everything. The pain in his heart was worse than anything he'd ever felt before. He knew that it was stupid to let someone into his heart. Something like this happened every time he did. His parents, his brother, Victor, John... everyone he'd ever cared about had hurt him. He collapsed onto the floor, curling into a ball as sobs shook his body.

Sherlock vowed never to love again, but he knew that this time was different from the others. He knew he'd never be able to stop loving John. He would just have to learn to live with the pain.

* * *

**Author's Note: I warned you all that this was coming...**

**Thank you all for supporting me and please keep reading. It will have a happy ending... eventually...**

**Thanks to reflectiveless, judybear236, kittysayzmeow, jaimi-or-jaemi, and Laura Finnick Holmes-Watson for reviewing.**

**I'm going to say what last chapter's songs were next chapter so there's still time to guess, since I'm updating so soon.**

**Again, please, please leave a review. I need some support to be able to write this (long) sad part... So if you ever want it to be happy again, please leave a review.**


	8. Morning After

**A/N: **I changed a sentence from the last chapter so Sherlock got to be a bit more undressed before John ran off. I actually added a lot to the last chapter, so you might want to reread it.

* * *

_"It's sad, so sad  
__Why can't we talk it over?  
__Oh, it seems to me  
__That sorry seems to be the hardest word"_

_"[She] can take you anyplace [she] wants_  
_To fancy clubs and restaurants_  
_But I can only watch you with_  
_My nose pressed up against the window pane_

_"I, I who have nothing_  
_I, I who have no one_  
_Must watch you go dancing by_  
_Wrapped in the arms of somebody else_  
_When darling it's I_  
_Who Loves you"_

_"[Her] eyes upon your face_  
_[Her] hand upon your hand_  
_[Her] lips caress your skin_  
_It's more than I can stand_  
_Why does my heart cry?_  
_Feelings I can't fight"_

* * *

Sherlock vowed never to love again, but he knew that this time was different from the others. He knew he'd never be able to stop loving John. He would just have to learn to live with the pain.

* * *

John got very hardly any sleep that night, guilt over what he'd done preventing him from escaping into the land of dreams. He wanted to apologize to Sherlock, but he knew that an apology could not repair the damage he'd done to their friendship. An apology was not nearly enough to change the fact that Sherlock, the man who never opened up to anyone or let anyone in, had opened himself up to John, had offered up his fragile heart with the hopes that John would protect and care for it, and John had trampled it into the mud. John couldn't apologize because that would be asking for forgiveness that John knew he did not even remotely deserve and would never give to himself.

No, John could not apologize. What he could do for Sherlock was be the best friend he could possibly be and try to make up for the damage he'd done. He was determined to not let this ruin them.

* * *

Sherlock woke up in the morning with a splitting headache. He groaned and buried his head under the pillows to avoid the small amount of light coming in through the curtains. All of a sudden he sat up, wincing in pain at what the movement did to his hangover. He was in his room. He'd spent the night silently sobbing on the floor of the living room before finally drifting off to sleep about three in the morning. Even with a hangover, it wasn't difficult for him to deduce that John had carried him into his room and tucked him into bed, leaving a couple of pills — presumably painkillers — and a glass of water on the nightstand.

Sherlock was confused by the kindness the action displayed. John shouldn't be doing things like this for him after running off the night before. John should be moving out, not... making breakfast? Sherlock inhaled curiously. The smell of bacon, eggs, and toast filled the flat and made Sherlock's stomach rumble. He hadn't eaten for a while because of the case. He swallowed the pills and downed the water, deciding to investigate and find out why John hadn't abandoned him entirely yet.

Sherlock slipped on his dressing gown over his boxers and opened his bedroom door, shielding his eyes from the light that his hangover convinced him was blinding. He let out another groan, clutching his head. He internally cursed the sun for being so bloody bright on the morning after his heart was destroyed. It should be dark and miserable out, not light and cheerful.

Bad, bad sun. It was ruder and more inconsiderate than he was.

John, hearing his groan, turned from where he was making breakfast and smiled at Sherlock, the bags under his eyes and general tiredness the only indications that John hadn't had a peaceful night's rest either. "Morning, Sherlock," he said, turning back to the food. "Sleep well?"

Sherlock was momentarily stunned speechless. John was acting like last night had never happened, but... the nervous shifting of his weight and his jittery hands indicated that his intentions were not to mock Sherlock, but to keep their friendship intact. Sherlock smiled slightly, thankful that John was not going to leave after all. It would be better to have John as just his friend than not at all.

"No," Sherlock replied, shuffling over to the table and sitting down at one of the places that John had already set, "but I'm feeling a bit better now."

John put the food onto the two plates on the counter and brought them to the table, smiling with relief. "I'm glad to hear it," he said sincerely.

Sherlock smiled back slightly. His headache was starting to go away thanks to the painkillers John had left him. They sat in silence for a bit while John ate and Sherlock moved his food around with his fork. He was still worried that John was only doing all of this to lessen the blow before telling Sherlock he was moving out and it hurt his appetite.

John sighed and rolled his eyes. "Eat, Sherlock," he instructed.

Sherlock pouted. "Make me," he shot back.

John raised an eyebrow and sighed. If Sherlock was going to act like a child, then John was going to treat him like one. He stood, making his way over to Sherlock's side of the table, as the detective's brows furrowed in confusion. John picked up Sherlock's fork and piled food on top of it. "Open your mouth," he said calmly.

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, gaze shifting warily between John and the proffered forkful of breakfast. "You're not serious, are you?" he asked, his voice full of equal parts disbelief and uncertainty, his mouth not opening enough for John to force the food in his mouth.

John's expression remained determined. "Of course I'm bloody serious," he huffed. "I'm not going to let you bloody starve yourself. Now open your mouth." When Sherlock still looked skeptical, John sighed, setting down the fork on Sherlock's plate. "Please, Sherlock, you need to eat, for my sake if not your own."

Sherlock blinked at his flat mate and only friend and examined him carefully. John looked more worried than guilty. Maybe he wasn't going to leave after all... Sherlock refused to allow himself to hope. He had to be certain. "Why would it matter to you if you're just going to move out anyway?"

John blinked, looking at Sherlock like he'd grown an extra head. "Move out?" he repeated. "Why would I move out?"

Sherlock bit his lip. He didn't want to bring up the night before and ruin their tentative and fragile sense of their equivalent to normality. John seemed to understand his hesitance and covered Sherlock's hand with his own. Sherlock looked down at their hands to avoid eye contact.

"Sherlock," John murmured gently, willing Sherlock to look at him. Sherlock's eyes slowly lifted to meet John's, a fear and vulnerability in them that John had never seen in him before. "I'm not going anywhere. Last night doesn't change the fact that you're my best friend." The unbridled gratitude and adoration in Sherlock's unguarded eyes made him feel so incredibly guilty. For a moment, he wished he could love Sherlock back, but he was not gay. He couldn't have romantic feelings for Sherlock.

Of course, he refused to admit to himself that Sherlock being a man wasn't the real reason he couldn't let himself love him. It was much easier to tell himself and everyone else that he was 'not gay' than admit the truth.

* * *

"Sherlock, I'm going out," John announced to his flat mate later that evening.

Sherlock looked up at John from his spot on the sofa. _Nice clothes, hair combed back, more expensive cologne than he usually used... _John was clearly about to go on a date. Sherlock's jaw clenched as he felt a stab of jealousy sharper than any dagger pierce his heart.

"You shouldn't go on the date," Sherlock said, lacing his voice with as much disdain as possible.

John huffed in annoyance. "Why the hell not?" he countered. "It's not like we have a case right now. You turned down the last one Lestrade offered because it was 'too dull'."

"It was barely a five," Sherlock grumbled like a sullen child. "You shouldn't go on the date because dating is a waste of time." He nodded slightly as if agreeing with himself.

John rolled his eyes. "Dating is not a waste of time, but I don't want to argue right now or I'll be late," he said, heading to the door. "I'll probably be back tomorrow morning. Try not to burn down the flat while I'm away."

With that, he was gone. Sherlock waited until he heard the front door close to get up and follow John silently, making sure his flat mate didn't see him.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Sherlock was standing outside a nice restaurant, staring through the window at John and his date. She was pretty, not exactly beautiful, with red hair that was absolutely not her natural color, matching lipstick, matching dress, matching shoes... basically, if she was murdered — which she was absolutely not in danger of being, no matter how much Sherlock wanted to — John would probably call the case "A Study in Scarlet" on his blog. Her eyelashes were obviously fake — natural eyelashes couldn't possibly get that long — and she kept batting them at John flirtatiously. Her lips were curved in a coy smile. She was trying too bloody hard to get John to sleep with her.

John deserved so much better than her. He deserved someone who knew him, loved him, would do anything for him. He shouldn't be going out with this tramp. _Sherlock _should be the one John took out to a nice restaurant, the one whose bed John shared, the one John loved... not some random woman whose name John wouldn't remember in the morning.

About an hour of watching them enviously later, the bill was paid and they stood to leave, forcing Sherlock to scurry off or risk being seen. He didn't need to follow them to know what would happen next. They'd take a cab to the woman's house and have sex. The redhead would get to have John the way Sherlock wanted him. She would kiss him and touch him and feel him. The jealousy was eating Sherlock alive.

* * *

**A/N: **So, I was actually surprised that you guys weren't more angry with me for the previous chapter. Thank you so unbelievably much for sticking with me! You're all absolutely fabulous and your reviews keep me motivated to write.

I've decided that, from this point on, when I reveal what the songs were for the previous chapter, I'm also going to specify which cover artist or artist sang the version on my playlist because there are some songs that I only like if they're a specific version.

The songs from the previous two chapters are as follows:  
**Chapter 6:**  
"So Close" from Disney's Enchanted by Jon McLaughlin, "Just Say Yes" by Leonie Meijer, and "Just a Kiss" by Corey Gray and Caitlin Hart.

**Chapter 7:**  
"Don't You Wanna Stay" by Jake Bruene and Clara Chung, "Please Don't Make Me Love You" from Dracula The Musical by Kate Shindle, "Stay With Me" by Scott Rusch (his voice in this song is seriously gorgeous), and "I Won't Say I'm In Love" from Disney's Hercules by Susan Egan.

Thank you so much to booklover22, jael33, Serenityofthematrix, spitfirelady, Cantuono, kittysayzmeow, judybear236, jaimi-or-jaemi, Colelockian, and merlynnllwyd for reviewing.

Special shout out to kittysayzmeow for guessing a couple of the songs.


	9. The Aftermath

**A/N: **This chapter was going to be longer, but I realized that I wanted to make it into two separate chapters, so I'm working on the second part and it might be up today.

* * *

_"Jealousy. _  
_Yes, jealousy... _  
_Will drive you... mad! _

_"Roxanne_  
_You don't have to put on that red light_  
_Walk the streets for money_  
_You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right_

_"Roxanne_  
_You don't have to wear that dress tonight_  
_Roxanne_  
_You don't have to sell your body to the night"_

**000000**

_"You promise me heaven, then put me through hell_  
_Chains of love got a hold on me_  
_When passion's a prison, you can't break free_

_"I play my part_  
_And you play your game"_

**000000**

_"And if I start a commotion _  
_I run the risk of losing you _  
_And that's worse"_

* * *

The jealousy was eating Sherlock alive.

* * *

A few weeks passed and on the surface, everything seemed to have gone back to what it had been before Sherlock developed feelings for John. John had started going on more and more dates, hardly ever with the same woman twice. It was obvious that he wasn't satisfied with the women he dated. If the way he was so open to the idea of giving Sherlock a handjob the night they were drunk was any indication, he might not be satisfied with women in general.

The worst part was that Sherlock was _right there_.

He lived with John and it was obvious that John wanted him, at least, he did when he was drunk. It would be so easy for John to just go to him to get the satisfaction he craved, but he never did. So Sherlock intentionally drove away any woman John actually saw more than once. It was so easy to use his deductive ability to make them not want anything to do with him or John.

It didn't stop John from going out with a different woman the next day. John would always return home in the mornings and Sherlock would be there waiting. Sherlock was usually either on the sofa, pretending to be completely focused on his own mind while he secretly deduced everything he could about John to make sure he hadn't actually found the person he seemed to be searching for, or staring out the window and playing the violin as if he had been doing that and not pacing all night.

It didn't happen every night, actually. John really went out on a date about once a week, but it seemed much more frequent to Sherlock.

There were several times when John got home and Sherlock was in an exceptionally resentful mood. Those times, he had to consciously stop himself from asking John, "Do they at least pay you for your services?" or something else along those lines. He always held those comments in because comparing John to a prostitute out loud would definitely end their friendship. Even Sherlock, a self proclaimed sociopath, knew that. He didn't want to lose John forever.

Unfortunately, his heart didn't stop being broken out of a desire to keep his friendship with John. No matter what he did to try to get over his feelings for John, it still hurt.

So he did as John had wanted; he continued to pretend that he didn't love John. He continued to pretend that seeing John with women wasn't killing him. He continued to play the role that John had assigned to him.

It was almost like he was two different people. There was his usual snarky self that everyone expected and then there was the real him. The real him pined for John when no one could see. The real him let a few tears escape his eyes when he played John's song. The real him was tormented night after night by the memory of his almost perfect night with John.

The dreams were a constant in his life now. Most nights, it was his photographic memory replaying exactly what had happened that night over and over again until he woke, sobbing. Some nights, however, his mind changed what had happened so John hadn't run off. In those dreams, either he never told John that he loved him or John had said that he loved him too. Those dreams made him so extremely happy for so short a time. Then he would wake up and remember that John hadn't stayed, that John didn't love him. It hurt even more after those dreams than it had previously because he got a glimpse of what it could have been like, what they could have had, and then it was torn away and replaced by the harsh reality of his unrequited love.

* * *

**A/N:**

**About the songs:**  
I'd really like it if you listen to the versions of the songs I use for the story. It's not a requirement, but in most of the songs, every word relates to the story in some way and I really think they add to it. Also, some songs are duets and the different parts relate to different characters and I was wondering if I should say which lines represent which character or are from which character's perspective from now on. **I'd really like your feedback on that.**

Also, the **000000 **is to signal the end of a quote from a certain song so I can put multiple stanzas.

Thank you to Serenityofthematrix, Teddybear0410, skorpina18, Tanja88, Cecire, spitfirelady, Cantuono, and judybear236 for reviewing.

Special shout out to Cecire for noticing the allusion to the book. I was hoping someone would notice! ;)

Special thanks to spitfirelady for getting one of the songs right.

The songs from the previous chapter are:  
"Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word" by Sarah Darling, "I Who Have Nothing" by Katherine Jenkins (for all those whovians out there, she was the woman in the Christmas special with the flying sharks and her voice is _amazing!_), and "El Tango De Roxanne" by Ewan McGregor (note: his part is the one used here, which is why I credited him and not Jose Feliciano).

**Lastly:** Please, please, please leave reviews! They keep me going. I kinda live off of your feedback, so please keep reviewing!


	10. Journals

_"What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?  
__And what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're OK?  
__I'm falling to pieces"_

**oOo**

_"I always needed time on my own_  
_I never thought I'd need you there when I cry_  
_And the days feel like years when I'm alone_ _"_

* * *

It hurt even more after those dreams than it had previously because he got a glimpse of what it could have been like, what they could have had, and then it was torn away and replaced by the harsh reality of his unrequited love.

* * *

Sherlock had never kept a journal or a diary in his life; he just never needed to because of his memory. But his sorrow was too much for him to keep bottled up inside. He couldn't focus on his work with all of these feelings blocking out any rational thought. What he did instead was turn to Molly.

One day when he was experimenting on a corpse in the morgue, he abruptly turned to her and asked, "How do normal people deal with their emotions?"

Molly looked up at him with surprise. "What do you mean?" she asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

"I..." Sherlock began, his voice and impassive facade cracking with the strain of the emotions he was trying to contain. "I can't just turn off my feelings for John, but the pain I'm feeling is overwhelming my mind and I need a way to get it to stop."

Molly swallowed, her heart breaking for Sherlock. "Well... some people like to talk to a friend or psych-"

"No," Sherlock interrupted. He was not going to bloody _talk about his feelings_, especially not to a psychologist. "Do they do anything other than _talk_?" he demanded. He had already shared his emotions with one person and look how _that _turned out.

Molly bit her lip. "Well, some people write in journals or diaries that no one else reads."

Sherlock considered it. "That sounds... reasonable..." he said. With that, he turned and left without another word to Molly.

* * *

As Sherlock walked away from St. Bart's, he thought about Molly's suggestion. It would be like locking his feelings away in his Mind Palace, but separate from his mind. Besides, John never found the things he seriously wanted to hide from him, so there was no real risk of John finding it.

He entered the nearest book store and selected a leather-bound notebook. When he got home, he locked himself in his room to start writing. At first, he couldn't think of how to begin, since he'd never done this before. Then he decided to write it in the form of letters he would never send, letters to John.

* * *

Luckily, the journals served their purpose. Since they gave him an outlet for his emotions, he was able to focus on cases be himself again. He was even able to go back to his easy friendship with John without too much pain. Whenever he felt depressed or brokenhearted over John, he would add a new journal entry. It quickly got to the point where he had to buy another and another and another journal because he filled them so quickly.

By the time Moriarty reappeared, Sherlock had filled six journals and begun on his last one.

* * *

Just to clarify quickly: listening to the songs is a _suggestion_ and _not_ a requirement for the story. Hell, you can even skip over reading the excerpts if you'd like.

Also, sorry for how short the chapters are. When I finish the story, I'm going to go back and edit it and add a lot, so it will be much longer.

Thank you so much to mboutwell7, jael33, Serenityofthematrix, kittysayzmeow, Teddybear0410, JakkyLovesScreamer, Laura Finnick Holmes-Watson, skorpina18, Cecire, judybear236, spitfirelady, Rubbyy, and jaimi-or-jaemi for reviewing.

Special shout out to Rubbyy for correctly getting one of the songs!

Ah well. The songs from last chapter are:  
"El Tango De Roxanne" by Jose Feliciano from _Moulin Rouge_, "You Give Love a Bad Name" by Bon Jovi, and "Ever Fallen In Love" by Pete Yorn from _Shrek 2_.


	11. Oh Look, I'm Still Alive! (Authors Note)

**First, I'm not dead! Sorry I've taken such a long hiatus, I've been distracted by/fully focused (as much as possible with ADHD) on school and college applications, or really application singular, but that's a story for a different time.**

**Life is difficult, school is more so.**

**But the good news is I'm going to start updating again! I really adore this story and want to work on it badly, so I'm going to use it as motivation to finish homework. **

**Let me explain.**

**With ADHD, it's incredibly difficult/nearly impossible to focus on something you don't want to do. The reason is that the executive functions part of the brain - which is the thing that tells you to do something you don't want to do, but have to do anyways - does not have as much activity in a person with ADHD. It simply doesn't work properly. Exercise, medication, and the promise of rewards are the best ways to help that. If you want to know more about what it's like in the brain of a person with ADHD, I wrote a piece of creative non-fiction about it for school. I can post it on AO3 and possibly if you guys would like to read it. A slightly edited version was actually published on an ADHD magazine, which just proves how awesome I am. ;)**

**As I said earlier, I'm going to use writing this fanfic as my motivation. When I finish homework, I get to work on my story. Hopefully this will work because I really want to get back to it.**

**I'm sorry that this is not an actual chapter, but I haven't finished my homework yet. We'll see what happens when I do. **

**Thanks again for all your support, guys! **

**-Christine Éponine Watson**

* * *

**P.S:**

**A while ago, I got a review that really upset me because the person was acting like I was forcing them to listen to the songs I post at the beginning of the chapters. I want to make it perfectly clear that listening to them is a SUGGESTION, _not_ a requirement. The songs and versions I chose are beautiful and I want to share them, but if you don't want to listen to them, don't, just don't act like I'm forcing you. _  
_**

**The thing that really upset me about that review was that the person told me how to write my story and that I shouldn't post anything until after it's been edited. That's not how I write. I write my own way and, since people seem to like it, my way seems pretty damn good. I would just like to request that people not tell me how to write my story.**

**I am, however, always open to plot ideas and requests. I might not include them, but I would still like to hear suggestions. I just don't want to be told how to write by someone who thinks they know better than I do.**

**Thanks again for reading this incredibly long A/N.**


	12. Goodbye (For Now)

_I can turn it on_  
_Be a good machine_  
_I can hold the weight of worlds_  
_If that's what you need_  
_Be your everything_

_I can do it_  
_I can do it_  
_I'll get through it_

_But I'm only human_  
_And I bleed when I fall down_  
_I'm only human_  
_And I crash and I break down_  
_Your words in my head, knives in my heart_  
_You build me up and then I fall apart_  
_'Cause I'm only human_

**ooo**

_Step one, you say, 'We need to talk.'_  
_He walks, you say, 'Sit down. It's just a talk.'_  
_He smiles politely back at you_  
_You stare politely right on through_

**ooo**

_Looking at you makes it harder_  
_But I know that you'll find another_  
_That doesn't always make you wanna cry_  
_It started with the perfect kiss then_  
_We could feel the poison set in_  
_"Perfect" couldn't keep this love alive_  
_You know that I love you so_  
_I love you enough to let you go_

**ooo**

_ Oh, please don't go_  
_Let me have you just one moment more_  
_Oh, all I need_  
_All I want is just one moment more_  
_You've got to hold me and maybe I'll believe_

_So hold me_  
_Even though I know you're leaving_

**ooo**

_It well may be_  
_That we will never meet again_  
_In this lifetime._  
_So, let me say before we part:_  
_So much of me_  
_Is made of what I learned from you._  
_You'll be with me_  
_Like a handprint on my heart._  
_And now whatever way our stories end_  
_I know you'll have rewritten mine_  
_By being my friend._

**ooo**

_No pain could be deeper_  
_No life could be cheaper_  
_No point anymore if she can't love me_  
_No hope she would do so_  
_No dream to pursue so_  
_I look to myself, despise all the things I see_  
_For I know that she_  
_Cannot set me free_  
_Let the world be done with me_

* * *

By the time Moriarty reappeared, Sherlock had filled six journals and begun on his last one.

* * *

"You _machine."_

Those two words out of John's mouth nearly destroyed Sherlock then and there. He knew he had to get John back to their flat so he could go to the roof alone, which was absolutely essential to his plan, but it killed him to hear John call him a machine. He knew John would only hate him more after today, but... for some reason hearing John call him a _machine_ was even more like a knife in his heart than when John left him the night they almost slept together. It took everything he had to not break down and tell John the truth, but John's safety was paramount.

* * *

Molly was such an amazing woman. Sherlock hated that she wasted her love on him. She deserved so much better; so did John, but Sherlock was much too selfish to give up on pursuing him. When he came back, he would try to woo John again, properly this time. For now, though, he needed to disappear and make the world believe he was dead.

"What do you need?" Molly had asked, looking at him with complete trust, so different from the way John had looked at him the last time he had been in the same room as his blogger.

"You," Sherlock had replied. He told her his plan, everything he needed from her to fake his death. Afterwards, he needed one more favor from her. "I also need you to keep these safe for me." he said quietly, handing her his six completed journals. The seventh he was keeping with him wherever he went in the world. It would be his link to John. Molly nodded, taking the journals delicately and clutching them to her as though they were incredibly precious. "And... watch over John? Don't let him do anything stupid or blame himself for anything..." he practically whispered.

Molly nodded sharply. "Of course, Sherlock," she said. "Come back soon."

He smiled at her, kissing her cheek. "You are far too kind to me, Molly Hooper," he said. "Thank you."

Molly had tears in her eyes. "Just... Don't let this be a last goodbye. Come back safely."

Sherlock smiled very slightly. "I'll try my best, but I can't make any promises." He headed to the door. "Goodbye, Molly Hooper." With that, he left, not looking back to see the fear and worry for him in her eyes.

* * *

That had been hours ago and now he was standing on the roof, Moriarty's corpse nearby. John would be there any moment and then he'd have to do it. He'd have to die. He cared about Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, but they were not John. Moriarty could have saved himself the trouble of hiring two of the assassins because Sherlock would do anything to save John. If he hadn't come up with his plan, he would have actually killed himself if that was what it took to keep his John alive.

He saw John's cab pull up by Bart's just as he stepped onto the ledge of the roof. He took a deep, calming breath and dialed John's number, holding his mobile up to his ear as he waited to hear John's beautiful voice.

"Hello?"John's voice answered, not yet panicked, as the man himself stepped out of the cab.

"John..." Sherlock breathed, swallowing to keep his voice sounding the way he wanted it to. Even if John didn't see him as a lover, Sherlock knew that the doctor cared deeply for him as a friend. Sherlock's death would hurt John so deeply, especially because he would blame himself. Sherlock knew that John wouldn't think that he killed himself because he was a fake. No, he would think that Sherlock killed himself because John hadn't loved him back. The guilt would eat him alive. Sherlock just hoped that Molly would be able to keep her promise and save John from himself.

"Hey, Sherlock, you okay?"John asked worriedly as he started jogging towards the hospital.

"Turn around and walk back the way you came _now_," Sherlock said forcefully. He needed John in a specific spot for his plan to work.

"No, I'm coming in," John said, talking over him.

"Just do as I ask," Sherlock said, his voice frantic and filled with desperation. He needed to trust his acting skills now more than ever. John stopped walking at his tone. "Please."

John turned on his heel and started walking back in the direction from which he came. His expression was filled with confusion, but Sherlock knew that there was trust in his eyes. John always trusted him, even when he was being mad. Even if he did survive his mission, John would probably never trust him so completely again. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment as his heart clenched at the thought. "Where?"

Sherlock waited until John was standing in the perfect spot to say, "Stop there."

John immediately stopped and looked around, trying to spot him. "Sherlock?" he asked, unable to spot the detective's coat or dark curls.

"Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop," Sherlock said, his voice monotonous. It took absolutely all of his acting ability to keep his emotions from his voice. This would be the last time he would see John for a very long time, assuming he survived to see him again and that John would even _want_ to see him after today.

John immediately looked up, horror on his face when he saw just how close to the edge Sherlock was standing. "Oh God," he breathed, blinking as if the image of Sherlock on the roof was just a mirage and would go away if he just blinked.

Sherlock almost smiled. His John, his beautiful John... '_I'm so sorry for what I'm about to do to you, my love_,' Sherlock thought as he stared at John's beloved face, storing every detail in his Mind Palace. "I ... I ... I can't come down, so we'll ... we'll just have to do it like this," he said into the phone, the resignation of a doomed man in his voice.

He knew the second John's mouth formed words that weren't accompanied by sound other than his breathing that John knew what would happen, why Sherlock was on the roof, but the stubborn man refused to believe it just yet. He wouldn't understand that Sherlock was doing all this to save him. Sherlock wished that John had his deductive ability so he would know the truth, but if it was John on the roof and him on the ground, he knew that his mind would not be functioning any better than John's. "What's going on?" John managed to ask anxiously after only a second of inability to form words.

"An apology," Sherlock said calmly. Because of the distance between them and the sun being behind Sherlock, John wouldn't be able to see the agony that flashed across his face as he said, "It's all true."

"Wh-wh-what?" John asked, taking a step back in disbelief.

"Everything they said about me," Sherlock clarified. "I invented Moriarty." He turned to look at the body, unsure even then if his enemy was really dead or if it was yet another trick.

When John took a long time to reply, Sherlock almost thought that John believed him. "Why are you saying this?"

Sherlock turned back towards John, only barely able to stop himself from sobbing at the thought that John might not think he was real. "I'm a fake," he forced himself to say, some of the pain he felt bleeding out into his voice.

John blinked. "Sherlock..." he said, his voice admonishing.

"The newspapers were right all along," Sherlock lied, not hiding his pain anymore as his voice became tearful. "I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs Hudson, and Molly ... in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes," he instructed, knowing that John would never do that, even if he believed it himself.

"Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up," John said fiercely. He clearly wanted to believe in him, even if a part of him didn't. "The first time we met ... the _first time we met_, you knew all about my sister, right?"

"Nobody could be that clever," Sherlock said, trying to make John believe his lie enough to let him go without the guilt and pain he would feel if he believed that Sherlock was real.

"_You_ could," John said with conviction, without any hesitation, in fact.

Sherlock let out a sharp breath of a laugh even as he felt the tears start to fall. His John, faithful to the last. John would never believe the lies people told about Sherlock, even if it would save him so much pain. Sherlock found that he couldn't speak for a moment when hit with the full force of John's devotion. It broke his already shattered heart even more. "I researched you," he lied, trying again to make John believe him. "Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you." He sniffed, trying to stop himself from breaking down and sobbing. "It's a trick. Just a magic trick." '_My beautiful, amazing John... Right now, I'm glad that you don't love me the way I love you. This would hurt you so much more if you did...'_

John closed his eyes, shaking his head. Sherlock could practically hear his thoughts: It wasn't possible. Sherlock couldn't have been lying to him this whole time. "No. All right, stop it now," he said as if that would make Sherlock laugh and tell him he was only joking and they could go back home for tea and biscuits and discuss what to do next to recover Sherlock's credibility. How Sherlock wished it was that simple, but it wasn't. Nothing was ever that simple. He started walking towards Bart's again.

Sherlock knew this would happen, that John would try to reach him to physically stop him if that's what it took. Sherlock couldn't let that happen. For them both to survive, Sherlock had to die. "No, stay _exactly_ where you are," he said forcefully. "Don't move."

John walked back the few steps he had taken, raising his free hand as if in surrender. "All right," he said, clearly trying to placate Sherlock so he wouldn't jump. _'Really, John,' _Sherlock thought, _'by now you should know better than that. This can't be avoided.'_

Sherlock's own free hand was stretched towards John, as if he could touch his hand by sheer will alone. "Keep your eyes fixed on me," he said firmly before his voice cracked and let his emotions through again as he continued. "Please, will you do this for me?"

"Do what?" John asked, suspicion and worry filling his voice.

Sherlock swallowed. He closed his eyes. This was it. This was the end. He sincerely hoped that the end was only temporary. "This phone call... it's, er..." he took a deep breath to find the courage to destroy his best friend and the love of his life, "it's my note." He paused to let John absorb his words. "It's what people do, don't they... leave a note?"

John shook his head, lowering the mobile from his ear momentarily as if he couldn't bear to have his worst fears confirmed. "Leave a note _when_?" he demanded, morbid curiosity clearly getting the better of him.

"Goodbye, John," Sherlock said instead of answering his question. He didn't need to answer; John already knew.

John shook his head slightly, taking another step back. John was a man of action, Sherlock knew he wouldn't be able to stand still when filled with emotions like these. "No," he said. Sherlock could hear the pleading in his voice. "Don't."

Sherlock stared down at John for a few moments. He knew he had to say it one last time before he left, even if John didn't want to hear it. "I love you, John Watson," he murmured. "I never lied about that." He ended the call and dropped his phone before John could have a chance to reply. He saw John lower his own mobile from his head and take a step towards him, anguish on his face. He could hear John shout his name, even from this distance.

Sherlock raised his arms straight out to his sides and let himself fall forward.

* * *

John watched in horror as his best friend fell to his death. Everything, time, sound, sight, smell disappeared as he heard that sickening crunch as Sherlock's body hit the ground. John's thoughts disappeared. His medical brain told him that there was no way Sherlock could have survived an impact like that, but he forced those thoughts away with the rest of them as his body acted on instinct and ran towards where Sherlock had landed. As he moved past the corner of the building, he got his first glimpse of it: Sherlock laying motionless with an ever-growing pool of blood like a halo around his head. John would never forget that sight for as long as he lived.

Just after he had a glimpse of it, a man on a bike ran into him and knocked him to the ground. He lay as motionless as Sherlock for a few seconds as his jostled mind tried to piece itself back together enough to make his body get off the ground and hurry towards the people who had gathered around the body. Sherlock's body. Everything was hazy, his head dizzy and spinning as he took stumbling steps towards the crowd, trying to push his way past them to get to Sherlock. "I'm a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through, please," he said, sounding almost drunk. He didn't hear the words coming out of his own mouth or even know what he said. His body was acting on instinct as his mind had completely shut down. He movements and voice grew frantic when they wouldn't let him pass. "No, he's my friend. He's my friend. Please." He finally made it to Sherlock's side, grasping his wrist to check for a pulse. What was left of his mind and soul shattered when he didn't feel one. Not a single beat of the heart that many believed Sherlock didn't have.

Someone gently pulled his hand off of Sherlock, trying to get him away from the body. "You don't understand..." John said, not hearing or registering his own words. "I love him... I... I love him..." He repeated that phrase over and over again without realizing it. His conscious mind had absolutely no idea that he loved Sherlock the way Sherlock loved him, it was his subconscious that had known all along that was talking. He tried to reach for Sherlock again, but several people were holding him back as paramedics loaded Sherlock's body onto a gurney. John collapsed onto the ground, still repeating the words he didn't know he meant like a mantra. When he saw Sherlock's eyes staring unseeingly forward, he lost the already tenuous hold he had on consciousness and sank into blissful oblivion.

* * *

_The tears fall as I watch you leave_  
_Baby don't go..._

_..._

_I know this love affair is not what we need_  
_But I'd give up everything to just feel you breathe_  
_I'm missing you, begging you, come back to me_  
_Baby don't go..._

_They say you don't know what you've got til it's gone..._

* * *

**A/N: ****So... Yeah... I don't really have words right now... but I kept my promise to update...**

**I'd like to thank DaringD, Kitty, spitfirelady, EJBRUSH1952, ill-interrogate-the-cat, jaimi-or-jaemi, The Archfiend, Tanja88, EJBRUSH1952, Cantuono, Teddybear0410, Serenityofthematrix, jaimi-or-jaemi, spitfirelady, kittysayzmeow, and my annonymous reviewers: Jakky, Kitty, and nobody for the reviews. If I said your name twice, it's because you reviewed the actual chapter and the A/N.**

**Special shout out to The Archfiend, EJBRUSH1952, spitfirelady, and DaringD for correctly guessing at least one of the songs. Teddybear0410, you got the right original singer, but wrong song, sorry, buddy. Keep guessing, though!**

**The aforementioned songs are:**

**"Breakeven" by Max Schneider and "When You're Gone" by Ali Brustofski.**


	13. A Cold Slab of Stone

_I spend all those sleepless nights_  
_Thinking about the times_  
_When you were always around_  
_And now it's the final goodbye  
I know you think it's the last time_

_But I am missing you _  
_I'm missing you_  
_And all I'm left with are pictures and memories  
That fade in time_

_I can't believe you're gone forever_  
_And I will never see that smile again  
But I can hear your voice repeating my name_

_So I watch you close your eyes for the last time  
And I know I'll never see your face again_

**_ooo_**

_I'll be in every beat of your heart _  
_When you face the unknown_  
_Wherever you fly_  
_This isn't goodbye_  
_My love will follow you, stay with you_  
_Baby, you're never alone_

**_ooo_**

_And maybe, I'll find out _  
_The way to make it back someday_  
_To watch you, to guide you_  
_Through the darkest of your days_

_If a great wave shall fall_  
_It'd fall upon us all_  
_Well I hope there's someone out there_  
_Who can bring me back to you_

...

_I know now, just quite how_  
_My life and love might still go on_  
_In your heart, in your mind_  
_I'll stay with you for all of time_

_..._

_If I could turn back time_  
_I'll go wherever you will go_  
_If I could make you mine_  
_I'll go wherever you will go_

* * *

When he saw Sherlock's eyes staring unseeingly forward, he lost the already tenuous hold he had on consciousness and sank into blissful oblivion.

* * *

Sherlock's funeral was the worst moment of John's life. He was so full of emotions as he saw the coffin being lowered into the ground, knowing that he would never see Sherlock's face again. He would never see Sherlock smile when excited about something. He would give anything to see one of those smiles again. Hell, he would give anything to have Sherlock back to leave body parts in the fridge, just so long as Sherlock was alive and home with him. Out of everyone present, he was the only one who couldn't contain his emotions at all. Molly had been there to comfort him, though he didn't understand how she was able to be so calm. He knew she loved Sherlock. She should be more upset than he was, yet she barely shed a tear.

John really lost it when the first shovel of dirt landed on the coffin. He had fallen to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably and reaching towards the coffin as if he could touch Sherlock. Sherlock was really gone. He would never be back. John couldn't handle it. All of his friends had tried to get him to leave because of how painful it was for him, but John couldn't leave Sherlock. He should never have left him that day, never have called him a machine. He should have realized why Sherlock hadn't reacted to the news that Mrs. Hudson was dying. He should have known that Sherlock was trying to get him to leave, because John would never have let him jump, never have let him go.

Everyone gave up trying to console him or get him to leave after a while. The funeral ended and there was a flat patch of dirt in front of Sherlock's tombstone where a gaping pit had been, but John still would not leave. The sun had set behind the trees and the chill of night was in the air, but John was still curled up next to the grave, staring at Sherlock's name and wishing that Sherlock would appear and tell him it was all a trick if he just stared long enough, but Sherlock never came. Even Molly who had stayed by him faithfully the longest had to leave so she could get enough sleep to go to work tomorrow, but John would not leave.

He could not have moved if he wanted to. He'd already left Sherlock twice when the detective needed him the most, first the night they got drunk together and then the day Sherlock jumped. He couldn't leave Sherlock again.

He could not get over the guilt he felt as well as the anguish of losing someone who meant the world to him. It was his fault that Sherlock jumped, his fault he... he died... Sherlock had trusted _him_ even though he never trusted anyone and he'd failed him. He made Sherlock think he didn't care about him. He made Sherlock suppress feelings he didn't have experience with for his own comfort. He was a selfish bastard and Sherlock paid the price for that.

John had never hated himself even remotely as much as he did knowing he was the reason Sherlock was dead.

He thought that all of his tears had been spent when Sherlock was being buried, but fresh tears sprang to his eyes and flowed freely down his face. He missed Sherlock so much... It was like there was a dagger being thrust violently into his heart to know that this was the closest he would ever be to Sherlock again. "Sherlock..." he whispered between tears, clutching at the grass. He repeated Sherlock's name over and over and over, like a prayer. Like he could bring Sherlock back to life just by saying his name and wishing.

After an eternity of sobbing, Doctor John H. Watson, previously of the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers cried himself to sleep beside Sherlock's grave.

* * *

Despite John's belief that he was alone, someone had been with him the whole time, watching over him and wishing desperately that he could hold John in his arms and whisper the truth to him in three words: "I'm not dead."

It was even more painful to watch the man he had broken cry than to leave him. The only thing that kept him from going to John, the only thing that _could_ have stopped him, was his fear for John's safety. He kept expecting John to get up and go home, but when it was clear that he didn't intend to go anywhere, even if staying put his life in danger, and that he had fallen asleep, Sherlock crept out from his hiding spot and moved silently towards John. The ex-army doctor was a light sleeper, but Sherlock knew that if John did wake and see him, he'd assume that it was just wishful thinking and the desire to have Sherlock alive again. He wouldn't know the truth.

Sherlock knelt beside John, carefully lifting him into his arms. John immediately curled against him. When the blond murmured his name, Sherlock was afraid he might have woken, but then he realized that John must be dreaming about him. "I'm here, John," he whispered. "I'll never leave you, not really."

A slight smile appeared on John's lips and though he slept still, Sherlock knew that he'd heard him. He carried him to an empty alleyway, one of Mycroft's cars picking them up. Sherlock still held him even though he didn't need to anymore. John wouldn't fall to the ground if he let go of him, but he couldn't put him down. This would be the last time for a very, very long time that he would get to be near to and hold John. He kissed John's forehead.

The car stopped a block away from the flat and Sherlock crept stealthily with John to the flat. Mycroft's assistant had told him that Mrs. Hudson was asleep and wouldn't see him, so he was safe. Mycroft had also conveniently turned all of the CCTV cameras away just enough that Sherlock wouldn't be caught on any of them. Sherlock carried John into the flat, being very careful to avoid all of the steps that creaked so as not to wake John or Mrs. Hudson. He was honestly surprised that John hadn't woken already, but he supposed that John must have been as drained by his grief as he himself had been the night John left him.

Sherlock carried John into the blond doctor's bedroom, setting him gently on the bed and taking off his shoes and jacket, though he didn't dare stripping John any further and putting him into pyjamas. That would probably be a bit not good. He tucked John in carefully and kissed his forehead again. John smiled, curling up on the bed. His fingers curled around one of Sherlock's hands, bringing it up to his face in his sleep. Sherlock smiled and lay down next to him on the bed.

"John," he whispered, "I'm so sorry for what I'm doing to you. If I had any other choice or way to keep you safe, I'd take it in a heartbeat and stay here with you." He swallowed back the emotions that were rising to the surface, wishing desperately that he could do just that. "I know that these next few years are going to be hard for you, but you can't blame yourself, my love. None of this is your fault. Even if you loved me the way I love you, Moriarty would have still forced me to do this." He blinked to get rid of the tears that were springing to his eyes at the knowledge that he would be leaving John so very soon. "No matter where in the world I am, I always will be with you. Even if I really do die, I'll still be with you. I promise." He decided to tell Molly to give John his journals if anything happened to him. They could be John's link to him the way the journal he was keeping with him would be his link to John. "You'll never be alone, John," he whispered. "I'll always be here, even if not physically."

Sherlock stood and, with one last, lingering glance at his love, slipped out of his home and into the night.

* * *

**A/N: ****I was a bit surprised that the Reichenbach chapter got one of the lowest emotional responses out of any chapter of this story. What really surprised me, however, is that **_no one_** commented on the last few paragraphs of the chapter that were from John's perspective. I thought that would get the largest response. Oh well, c'est la vie. **

**Thank you to petertomywendy, spitfirelady, Padfoot333, Kitty/kittysayzmeow (I feel ya on the laziness. I do the same thing), Tanja88, sexydetective1017924, jael33, EJBRUSH1952, Waywardsons, jaimi-or-jaemi, and DaringD for reviewing.**

**Special shout out to Padfoot333 and jaimi-or-jaemi for correctly guessing some of the songs.**

**The songs are:**

**"Human" by Caitlin Hart (her version of the song is so emotional and beautiful... It makes me cry.), "How to Save a Life - acoustic" by Tyler Ward and Max Schneider, "One Moment More" by Mindy Smith (this song... I honestly cry every single time... and I listen to it a lot...), "For Good" from the musical _Wicked_ by Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel, "If I Can't Love Her (Reprise)" from the Broadway musical _Beauty and the Beast_ by Terrence Mann, and "Don't Go" by Jake Coco and Caitlin Hart (again, so damn beautiful and heartbreaking...). **

**ONE LAST NOTE: **

**I know a few of you thought the "Goodbye (For Now)" title meant that I won't be updating anymore, but it was Sherlock's goodbye to John, not mine to the readers. I _absolutely_ will be updating. Don't worry about that. There's a lot of story left.**


End file.
